Vipers Among The Stones
by Assisted-Living-Dracula
Summary: Steerpike discovers an ally among the serving class that shares his desire to rise to power. Based more on the Gormenghast BBC series than the book. Collaborated effort between myself and JackDante. Rating will shift to R in later chapters.
1. A Meeting Of Devious Minds

Another fine day dawned upon the castle of Gormenghast, the seat of the Groans, sending shadows chasing away into the darker corners of the main courtyard. Not that Steerpike would have noticed. He was already growing used to the permanent half-gloom of the Prunesquallors' house, being built as it was against the shadiest side of one of the castle's walls. After smoothing down the front of his jacket and checking that his hair was more than presentable, studied himself in his mirror several times before leaving the room he'd been appointed and making his way out into the corridor.  
  
With a quick glance at her door, he noted that Irma was already awake, and managed to fix a smile upon his face that would suggest he was pleased to see her, even though the truth was far different. He allowed himself a sly grin, laughing at another of his private jokes - or, rather, another chance for him to indulge in his intellectual superiority. He was so absorbed in his smugness, his arrogance, that he almost failed to notice the figures moving towards the house, and he paused and took a moment to regard them through one of the house's grime-smeared windows.   
  
Fuchsia tugged furiously at her teacher's wrist, making the woman jerk uncomfortably and stumble forward as she was dragged ever faster in the direction of the Prunesquallor's door.  
  
"Come on! Come on! I've a present waiting! I want to get it! Why do you have to drag so? Why do you have to keep me from getting my present? Oh! I could have come on my own and had it by now! Come on, Felicia!! Come on!"  
  
Felicia bared her teeth at the hideous girl and yanked her wrist backwards, the sudden movement making Fuchsia almost lose her own footing and trip to the side, barely catching herself and scowling at her teacher before sticking out her tongue and proceeding forward again.  
  
"I've told you over and over again, Lady Fuchsia, you are to call me Miss Havershum. As your teacher and your elder, I deserve that small bit of respect. And honestly, your manners, you act nothing at all like the Lady you are."  
  
Fuchsia grinned cheekily and took on a haughty air as she glanced back to her teacher before striding imperiously forward.  
  
"I am Lady Fuchsia, the daughter of Lord Groan, and I will call you whatever I like. So there!"  
  
She stuck out her tongue again and proceeded to the door where she began a wild frantic banging and called in a screeching voice for the doctor. Felicia hung back a few steps, her eyes narrowed, back straight, glaring daggers, wishing hideous catastrophes upon the idiot girl before her.  
  
Lady Fuchsia. Steerpike smiled to himself, his eyes fixed upon the girl as she made her way towards the house, evidently irritating the other woman who was accompanying her. Some other servant, he supposed, possibly an associate of Slagg's, if that foul crone even attracted any company. Still, it was Fuchsia whom he was concerned with, the young woman who had taken him in when he'd first arrived after his tumultuous escape from the realms of Swelter's kitchens. She seemed biddable enough; he'd often considered using her to further his own ends, even if she did seem to be possessed by an unhealthy spark of chaos. And much as he tried to quell the feelings that occasionally gnawed at his heart and tugged at other areas of his person, she awakened something within him that he still had not yet realized - not that he would ever admit this, even to himself. With a flick of his head, he immediately awoke from his reverie and made his way purposefully, yet swiftly, to the front door, pretending not to notice the tantrum Fuchsia was throwing on the other side. Assuming a humble air, Steerpike swung the door open and executed a graceful bow, Fuchsia's frantic banging having already brought the Doctor's inquiring face into the room.  
  
"Sir," he announced, his gaze passing briefly back towards Prunesquallor, "We appear to have guests."  
  
As the door opened, Fuchsia barged through, barely even glancing at the man who had opened it and accosting the doctor in her high pitched eager keening.  
  
"Doctor Prunesquallor! Doctor Prunesquallor! Felicia said you had a present for me! Oh what is it? What is it? Please tell me! Please! Please! Please!"  
  
Felicia stepped through the door, her lips pursed in distaste as she was once again referred to by her irritating pupil by her first name. The girl was just as arrogant and ridiculous as the rest of her family. It was absurd that she had to cater to such hideous people. It was beneath her in all honesty. Unfortunately, she had been born into the serving class of Gormenghast... a situation she hated more than anything. She took a deep breath and stood to the side, watching with cold black eyes as Fuchsia pawed at the doctor, who seemed quite amused by her eagerness, and was led to a sitting room. This left Felicia in the company of the other man... he wasn't the Prunesquallor's usual man... he was much much younger. She glanced over him briefly before flaring her nostrils in distaste and following through to where she could hear Fuchsia still prattling on about her gift.  
  
Steerpike watched Fuchsia with the same, cold stare, although his eyes held a hint of something warm within their glittering depths. Calmly, quietly, he closed the door behind the guests and stood, impassive, as the Doctor greeted Lady Fuchsia Groan.  
  
"My dear, my dear, do calm down!" he scoffed, his nose twitching as he smiled at her. "I find hysteria most harmful to the complexion! Hysteria, that is, not wisteria, which I imagine would be most unkind to the skin, were it applied, which of course it should not be."  
  
His prattling, as usual, was lost on the young lady, who pouted and tugged most insistently at his sleeve. "Ah! A present! Well, we are indeed, now in the present. No time like the present, which I see it is now! Such vigor and spirit!"  
  
Steerpike suppressed an irritated sigh at Prunesquallor's irritating banter. It seemed ironic to him that of all people in the castle who could possibly match his intelligence - which, in itself, he deemed highly unlikely - it would be the man standing before him with more mouth than brain. To alleviate his annoyance, Steerpike found himself glancing at Fuchsia, which eased him mind somewhat; she was dressed, as always, in a way which seemed to appeal to his weaker side. After contemplating this for a moment, he realized this, too, only irritated him, and so he turned his gaze to the other lady who had just entered. Felicia, Fuchsia had said. Smiling, wishing to seem warm and friendly, yet humble and servile, he begged leave to speak.  
  
"Doctor Prunesquallor, I present to you - since we all seem most concerned with presents, at the current time - Lady Fuchsia and - dare I say it - a lady named Felicia. A veritable bouquet of names, wouldn't you say, Sir?"  
  
Felicia's gaze turned to the young man briefly before she rolled her eyes and let out a small sigh, her face immediately going from barely contained annoyance and boredom to a calm pleasantness as the doctor extricated himself briefly from Fuchsia's eager pawing and questing for her present. Felicia nodded politely to Doctor Prunesquallor.  
  
"You see doctor, I made the mistake of mentioning your gift to Lady Fuchsia at the beginning of her lessons today. She refused to wait one second, insisting that we come over immediately to retrieve said present. So if you don't mind, I'd rather appreciate it if the exchange could be made rather speedily as I would much like to get her back to her studies."  
  
She waited until the doctor had turned back to Fuchsia to add under her breath. "Not that there's any point in trying to teach the little cretin anything. Might as well be holding class for Gertrude's cats."  
  
So, this Felicia was another in the Groans' service, some manner of personal tutor to Lady Fuchsia. Steerpike kept his face a cold mask as he pondered over what, exactly, the schoolmistress could possibly teach the chaotic maelstrom currently whirling in front of him with a flurry of scarlet. How would one ever manage to get Fuchsia to sit still for five minutes, he wondered, never mind attempt to force some cold logic into her flighty brain. She reminded him of a caged bird, never resting, constantly battering its wings against its gilded cage, even though the only outcome would be battered feathers and broken bones; all that would be needed would be the cold, dark cloth of logic over her cage, and she would see reason. That, or the door of the cage could open...  
  
"Are you still here?" Fuchsia's shrill voice cut into his thoughts as a knife would slice a Victoria sponge. Prunesquallor had managed to calm Fuchsia briefly with promises of presents and treats on his ever-moving lips, and now the daughter of Groan had turned her attentions to Steerpike. She was staring at him, her brow furrowed, her lower lip jutting out as she glared at Steerpike with such immature anger that one could almost be fooled into thinking she had a valid reason for her outburst. "Why are you still here?"  
  
"Because I have not yet left," he replied, the ghost of a smile upon his thin lips.  
  
"Charming! Most charming!" marveled Prunesquallor, removing a previously hidden handkerchief from one of his pockets.  
  
"WHY haven't you left?" Fuchsia demanded, stamping a booted foot upon the floor.   
  
"Because I am in the pay of the good Doctor, as I believe has often been discussed," he replied, executing another small bow. "Indeed, it is to the Lady Fuchsia herself that I owe my thanks, for she is no small judge of talent and ability-"  
  
"You should be adventuring so you can tell me more stories!" she said sulkily, raising her head and looking down her nose at him. "I want stories! I want to hear about dragons and circus clowns and horses that fly!"  
  
"Fuchsia, dear Fuchsia!" Here, the Doctor interrupted, for he feared that the young lady could keep them in the drawing room all day. "Horses cannot fly - at least, not the ones whose company I keep. Most unnatural for the scapula, you see."  
  
Steerpike was an observant and patient man. As the Doctor prattled and rattled, and Fuchsia fussed and complained about the lack of adventurers in the world, he tried to glean as much information about Felicia as he could from a cursory glance. She seemed weary, perhaps, of Fuchsia's constant daydreaming and dancing, her inability to keep her mind fixed on anything. Interesting. He remained quiet, playing up to the role of servant into which he had been cast, keeping a watchful eye on all three of the others as Prunesquallor's voice took on a more commanding air.   
  
"Now, unless there are other matters to attend to - that is, matters, not maters - other maters! That would be a situation indeed. Seeing as her Ladyship requires more attention than this body can possibly give, and other maters, mothers as they should be called, would drain the very life from these bones - if all matters here are concluded, apart from the present, which will still be with us in the future-"  
  
He laughed at his own joke, then continued. "Would you two fine examples of womanly pride care to join us for breakfast?"  
  
Felicia gave the Doctor a small polite smile, glancing disapprovingly at the way Fuchsia snatched the handkerchief from his hand and began to fuss over the gaudy bauble inside.  
  
"Thank you, Doctor Prunesquallor, but we really don't have time for breakfast. We must be getting back to Lady Fuchsia's lessons and..."  
  
But she didn't get the chance to finish her thought as Fuchsia immediately lost interest in her new gift and began to howl and whine in favor of staying.  
  
"But I want to stay for breakfast! I want to stay! I want to! I want to!! I'm ever so hungry! I could eat for hours and hours. Why are you so boring? Why must you always be trying to keep me from doing what I want? You're dreadful and plain and boring! I want jam and tea and cakes and honey and biscuits! I want to stay! I hate you! Why are you trying to starve me? You're horrible! I want to stay!"  
  
Fuchsia continued her onslaught, stamping her feet and thrashing her fists in the air, Doctor Prunesquallor trying desperately to calm her with reassurances, his insipid rambling and laughter grating on Felicia's nerves as much as Fuchsia's tantrum. Felicia set her jaw and gazed at Fuchsia with as much steady and calm as she could muster, knowing that she had only to wait out the torrent of pubescent rage that was occurring before her. To the untrained eye, she would have seemed quite calm and reserved considering the level of snide and nasty comments being hurled at her. But Steerpike could detect a fine tremor running through her body, observed the way her fists clenched into tight balls at her sides, the faint pulsing of a vein beneath the fine pale skin of her temple. Slowly, Felicia began to unwind herself, taking a slow deep breath and holding up a pale thin hand.  
  
"Alright, Fu... Lady Fuchsia... calm yourself. Lessons can wait a bit longer. But if there are any more of these impetuous outbursts I'll be speaking to her Ladyship. And I'm quite sure she won't like to hear the way you've spoken to me. But if you must have breakfast, then by all means... I'm quite sure the good Doctor's table is well enough appointed for you."  
  
"Well-appointed? Ahahaha!" The Doctor beamed and stared at the two ladies with such intensity that his pleased smile, coupled with his glasses, made him seem like a bemused - if eager - tortoise. "My dears, I would have seen to it that my table was well-appointed if I had known beforehand that you would be gracing me at the altar of my repast! Thankfully, this day, we have been blessed with an over-abundance of scones."  
  
"Shall I show them through, Sir?" Steerpike asked courteously. "Or am I to see that the table is presentable as you keep these ladies in such civilized company?"  
  
He bowed and fawned, even as he sneered inwardly at Prunesquallor's nonsensical twaddle. It had also not gone unnoticed that Felicia, as with all the servants of Gormenghast, should supposedly be grateful for the honor of living to do the Groans' bidding, as tradition required. But the way she had spoken, her subtle hints regarding the Prunesquallors' breakfasting being adequate for Lady Fuchsia's needs - these were not the words of a devoted, loyal servant. This, combined with Felicia's inner irritation - a feeling she appeared to keep well hidden and under control, admirable qualities to Steerpike - was certainly a welcome change from Nanny Slagg's incessant whining and self-pity.   
  
Thankfully, Fuchsia had ceased her thrashing now that it seemed she was to have her way, although her angered outburst had brought a flush to her cheeks and further agitated her already untamed hair. She pouted still, glaring at Steerpike as though he alone were the source of all her troubles in the world.  
  
"I don't want scones!" she protested. "I want cakes!"  
  
"I am sure cakes can be found, my dear," the Doctor soothed, patting Fuchsia on the shoulder. "Yes, Master Steerpike, if you would be so kind! Frightfully intriguing boy, that one. Can you believe he came to me actually wanting to work? The human condition never ceases to amaze..."  
  
Steerpike heard the Doctor relating several dross tales as he retreated to the dining room, replacing the now-cold toast with fresh pieces, dusting crumbs from the tablecloth and seeing to it that the generous table was presentable for the guests. Four places were now set; one for the Doctor himself, one for Irma, his sister, and two for the ladies who were sat in the next room. Much as Prunesquallor was fond of him, Steerpike was still a servant, once a kitchen-boy, no less. It would not yet have been proper for him to dine with the rest of the household. Satisfied that the dining room was ready for occupation, Steerpike returned to the drawing room and, clearing his throat, made his announcement.  
  
"Lady Fuchsia; good Doctor; Lady Felicia. Breakfast is served."   
  
Felicia arched an eyebrow in Steerpike's direction as the Doctor graciously invited them towards the dining room. Her eyes met his for a few brief moments before she had turned back to the Doctor with a look of slight interest.  
  
"He came to you for work you say?" Here she turned back to Steerpike and looked him over with cool appraisal. "I don't believe I've ever seen you amongst the castle's other servants." But their conversation was disrupted as Fuchsia once more fell into her fussing and tantruming.  
  
"You're all so boring!! I want breakfast! I want cakes and tea! I want them! I want them!"  
  
"There are cakes, Lady Fuchsia, nestling beside the toast rack, if you would care to look."  
  
Steerpike strode forward, leading them into the dining room, and slid Fuchsia's chair back from the table, although she declined to sit; he stepped away, his hands clutched behind his back as he waited patiently for Felicia and the Doctor to take their seats. Once seated - and leaving Fuchsia to her own devices, to sit if she wished - Steerpike gave his answer to Felicia's query. It irritated him that he hadn't been able to answer as soon as the question was posed, for Felicia's calm and collected manner piqued his interest, but he didn't let an ounce of annoyance show as his voice, smooth and calm, gave his reply.  
  
"You are an astute observer, Felicia," he noted, this time not allowing her the luxury of being called 'Lady'. She was, after all, a mere servant like himself. "But, then again, who amongst us can say he or she has ever observed all of the castle's servants at any one time? Indeed, even Lord Groan himself does not have to bother himself with the comings and goings of mere maids and nurses - unless, of course, they are dealing with his precious son."  
  
Despite their venomous nature, his words were wreathed in sweet roses, and the Doctor failed to see their poison. It remained to be seen whether Felicia would take the bait.  
  
"You are, however, correct. I was not born into this position; in fact, I strived for it, this illustrious office of a doctor's assistant, this prized possession of employment-"  
  
"Oh, enough, dear boy!" Prunesquallor cut in, halfway through a mouthful of toast. The Doctor turned to Felicia, his eyes full of mirth. "He does like to thank me for liberating him from the cooking pots! Would you believe, of all the medical and multiple wonders you have ever seen, that this fine young example of Homo Sapiens - male, juvenile, seventeen years of age - used to be a kitchen boy?"  
  
Fuchsia had snatched a cake from the table and a muffled giggle could be heard from behind it as she took a rather large bite and began to prance around the room, spinning slowly and twirling her other hand above her head. Her bite of cake now chewed and swallowed, her mirth seemed to dim somewhat as her flighty brain seemed to just be digesting what the Doctor had said.  
  
"I'm the one who liberated him! I found him! It was me he came to in his hour of need." Here she paused to give a dreamy sigh, her eyes lighting upon Steerpike, though it most likely wasn't the calm subservient young man standing before them that she was truly seeing. In her mind's eye, he was mounted upon a fine stallion, his face streaked with grime and blood from a hard fought battle as he urged his steed towards her, leaning down to receive a bouquet of flowers. Felicia's eyebrow arched slightly higher as she turned once more to Steerpike and looked him over again with renewed interest.  
  
"How intriguing... to have risen from such a lowly station to become... a dispensary clerk. Most impressive." She left it to him whether to read her remark as praise or sarcasm.  
  
"Indeed," he remarked, a slight smile upon his thin lips. "And it could be said that the fascinating life of a dispensary clerk is almost as thrilling as that of a chil's carer... wouldn't you agree?"  
  
So, she fancied herself a step up in station. He had to suppress a laugh himself, watching her delicately take a slice of toast onto her plate. No doubt she was a common bitch as well, raised amongst the ranks to play nursemaid. His attentions turned, then, to Lady Fuchsia, as he did his utmost best to enter the strange world of Fuchsia's imagination, playing up to her with passion and charm.  
  
"The lady is correct!" he nodded, bringing a pleased sigh from Fuchsia's lips. "There I was, streaked with dirt and grime, dying upon her chair, the darkness closing about me; then there she was, the sun of my world, bringing me light and hope as fresh as rain."  
  
Even though his lines had been delivered in a slow and measured way, allowing him to retain his cold demeanor, Fuchsia's ears took his words and bent them into romantic ballads, which danced about her brain. "He's an adventurer!" she sighed again, twirling the piece of half-eaten cake about her head. "He's been to the road in the clouds, he's seen castles and monsters and beauty and such pain!" Prunesquallor, as ever, delighted in this show of emotions, which occurred, whenever Lady Fuchsia came to visit. Steerpike, his piece said for the moment, smiled dangerously at Felicia. He was the cat, his smile said, and Fuchsia was the mouse.   
  
Felicia had been spreading jam over her piece of toast in precise even movements of her knife and was just raising it to her lips at Fuchsia's comment. Unable to stop herself from giving a short snorting laugh, she took a dainty bite of toast and looked over it at Steerpike.  
  
"All that in the kitchen's? Who ever would have guessed it was such a fascinating realm. And here I thought it was nothing more than a disgusting world of slop and sweat. Has it been hard for you then? To give up your great adventures for the Doctor's employment? No offense meant to the good Doctor of course." She paused and reached for the empty teacup before her and held it aloft in Steerpike's direction.  
  
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you possibly take on the overwhelming task of procuring some tea for me? Clerk?"  
  
Even Steerpike couldn't avoid the barbs of her comments, and he dropped his guard for a second, unintentionally allowing Felicia a glimpse of the cold, calculating mind behind his sincere gestures. His eyes glittered, his mouth curved into the hint of a sneer, and he was suddenly aware of his mistake. Smoothly, swiftly, he made up for his slip, stepping forward to proffer the teapot in Felicia's direction.  
  
"Certainly," he nodded, pouring the hot liquid into her cup, ever aware of Fuchsia's eyes on his deft movements. "It is no trouble. No trouble at all." But his jaw was clenched, his knuckles white, as he replaced the teapot back upon the table before fussing over the Doctor's scones. Prunesquallor had been too absorbed in the shape of the raisins to notice the tension between the servants, and he ate his breakfast with gusto, a fact for which Steerpike was grateful. He found the Doctor's tirades at the table were not beneficial to his appetite.  
  
"I think you will find, Felicia," Steerpike continued, "That my duties include far more than providing tea for the good Doctor."  
  
"Of course... of course..." Her eyes had narrowed as she watched him return to his place at the side of the table, his hands clasped before him. So there was more to this clerk than she may have guessed. His mask had slipped, not much... but enough... enough to let her know that he was not at all what he had at first seemed. She would have to watch this one carefully. He might prove to be a problem for her. Turning her attention back to her tea, she added a few cubes of sugar and some milk, taking small sips as she continued to observe the youth before her, nodding now and then and murmuring faint replies as the Doctor began his obnoxious prattling again.  
  
"Fuchsia, my dear, are you sure you will not partake of the scones? Absolutely, positively, completely sure? I feel I should be raisin, an objection! An objection raised! Ahahaha!" His shrill laugh pierced the air, almost making Steerpike flinch. Now his facade had been slightly tarnished, he was going to have to concentrate to remain seemingly impassive as the Doctor continued his spouting.  
  
"These scones have been 'raised' most impressively! Raised, brought up, subjected to yeast - dragged up!" Fuchsia wasn't listening, however, too busy humming an invented tune to herself, lost in dreams only she could see. It was doubtful that she even noticed the half-eaten cake that fell, forgotten, from her fingers and onto the richly carpeted floor. Yet another mess that Steerpike would have to deal with later. He watched Felicia sipping from her cup, his repeated glances hopefully subtle enough that she would not notice. And when he was not risking a wary look at Felicia, his eyes were on Fuchsia as she whirled around the room, her red skirt swirling around her ankles as she closed her eyes.   
  
Fuchsia's whirling about and the Doctor's unending babbling had managed to distract Felicia enough from Steerpike's presence, the nonstop cacophony beginning to give her a throbbing headache. She was about to make an attempt at getting Fuchsia to sit down when a clock on a nearby mantelpiece began to chime. Sighing, she set down her cup and smoothed her skirts as she rose from her chair.  
  
"I do thank you for your hospitality Doctor, but I'm afraid it's time for us to be leaving. We still have Lady Fuchsia's lessons and Lady Gertrude is expecting us for a pre-luncheon walk. Perhaps you and your dear sister could join us then?" At the mention of leaving and lessons, Fuchsia began to stomp and huff as she glared at Felicia. "I don't want to leave yet! I don't want to! I haven't finished my cake... my cake... where is my cake? Oh where is it?" She seemed in a near panic as she searched for her missing treat before spying it on the floor and giving a ridiculously over-dramatic wail.  
  
"Oh how did it get there?? Why is my cake on the floor?" Felicia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose before stepping in the direction of the drawing room. "Lady Fuchsia, we must be going, there will be cakes at luncheon... after lessons."  
  
As Fuchsia renewed her fussing, Felicia dared raise her voice, pronouncing her words very precisely and slowly. "Your mother... will be waiting for us... we are late... as it is. Now we really must be going."  
  
"Fear not, Lady Fuchsia." Steerpike stepped forth, one hand moving quickly towards the table, gathering up a slice of the cake and wrapping it in a handkerchief.  
  
"There is a fresh piece of cake awaiting you, here." He smiled and took one of Fuchsia's hands - his sudden action shocking the young woman into a stunned, possibly horrified, silence - and pressed the wrapped cake into her fingers. "Do not squeeze it so!" he warned, "Or else it would lose its irresistible freshness!" Fuchsia, caught within his spell, as she often found herself doing in his presence - something which pleased Steerpike greatly - nodded silently, and took the piece of cake as if it were made of precious china. Then, he turned and delivered a grin to Felicia, as if taunting her, showing he had tamed the chaotic girl; but his cold eyes glittered still, reminding her of his earlier slip.  
  
"Perhaps the ladies could return another day, if the Doctor would so will it," he announced. Inwardly, he was aware of something tugging at him, something that made his hormones shiver whenever Fuchsia was in his presence. As always, he was swift to deny himself such feelings, but today they were coupled with interest in the girl's guardian, this teacher, and he told himself that his desire to see them again was due to his interest in Felicia. She was far too observant for one of her station. She would have to be watched.   
  
Felicia's eyes narrowed once more, annoyed slightly at the way this... former kitchen boy... was able to calm her tumultuous pupil. That could be quite dangerous. Fuchsia was quite an impressionable girl given the right circumstances. And she had no doubt that one such as Steerpike, though she truly knew nothing about him, might have a mind to turn that to his advantage. When he hadn't been staring at her, he had been watching Lady Fuchsia far too closely. Like a child eyeing treats he hoped to be receiving any moment... or a cat creeping upon an unsuspecting bird. But would he pounce? And when? Clearing her throat, she placed a hand on Fuchsia's shoulder and steered her towards the door, the girl now strangely docile and clutching tenderly at the piece of cake Steerpike had given her.  
  
"Again I thank you, Doctor. I don't see why we couldn't return another day. I should like to have spent more time with two such gracious hosts, but we've quite a lot to do today I'm afraid."  
  
Still smiling, Steerpike stood by the door, allowing the guests to pass as the Doctor aided their exit. "Marvelous! Certainly! I would be honored - were I not already amply so - by another visit!"  
  
Steerpike rolled his eyes at the Doctor's tiresome outbursts, managing to keep a welcome look upon his face by sheer force of will alone. After Felicia took the reluctant Fuchsia through the drawing room and into the hall - where much bowing and scraping was done on behalf of both Steerpike and Prunesquallor towards the Lady Fuchsia - they were bid a cheery goodbye, and promises of all manner of sweetmeats upon their next visit. Fuchsia was a great deal calmer on her exit from the house, her cake clutched in one hand, her other gripping the gaudy present with which the Doctor had pleased her, and she glanced behind her as the two women walked away from the house. Steerpike was watching her still, his eyes fixing on the curling flow of her hair; but it was not only Fuchsia that he watched. He had already noted Felicia's details, the way she moved, the sound of her voice. She was different from the rest, he could tell, whether it be by the tone of her voice, the strength of intelligence behind her words, or merely the way she carried herself. Thinking quickly, Steerpike retreated into the house and appeared to be searching for something within the cushions of the large armchair by which Fuchsia had been standing; then, seeming to find something, he clenched his fists shut and approached the Doctor with a look which bordered on alarm.  
  
"Sir!" he gasped, breathless. "The Lady Fuchsia! She dropped one of her treasures behind the cushion, and I fear she will be most disagreeable unless she is reunited with such a valued possession!"  
  
The Doctor tutted, but knowing of Fuchsia's volatile nature, he nodded his assent and allowed Steerpike to leave for the castle. It was all false, of course, a mere pretext to follow the women inside the castle. He would not waste such a valuable opportunity. 


	2. An Allegiance Formed

Back straight, head held high, Felicia walked purposefully through the castle's main doors and in the direction of the room where she held class for Fuchsia. Both were completely unaware that Steerpike had followed as he held himself back and out of sight for the moment. Realizing that Fuchsia was dawdling as usual, Felicia turned around, not seeing the form that ducked out of sight a ways behind them.  
  
"Please Lady Fuchsia, I really must insist that we take no more time. I had planned on getting further along on your history lesson, but as it seems we no longer have time for that, perhaps we'll deal a bit with your grammar skills." The momentary calm Steerpike had lulled Fuchsia into vanished and the girl began to fume and stamp again, her fingers crushing the slice of cake.  
  
"But I wanted to paint! Or write poems! I hate grammar! It's stupid and boring! Just like you!" Felicia had had enough of her idiocy and seeing that they were in a secluded hallway, rounded on Fuchsia and backed her against the wall, hissing nastily through her teeth.  
  
"I have had quite enough of you today... madam. You are going to come along nicely and work on your grammar lessons and I will have no more tantrums or refusals. Do you hear me?"  
  
Fuchsia seemed shocked into silence before she caught herself and tried to raise her head imperiously. "You can't speak to me like that... you're just a servant!" Felicia smiled coldly and moved forward, her posture making Fuchsia shrink closer to the wall.  
  
"Oh, but I can. Your mother is quite fond of me, you know that. And when I expressed to her the other day what a horrible student you were, what an insulting and disrespectful girl you were, she informed me... that I'm allowed to punish you."  
  
"Your mother is quite fond of me..." Steerpike smiled to himself as Felicia spoke those words. He had thought himself lucky being discovered and harbored by a Groan. But when he had been admitted into the Prunesquallors's service, he had thought his blessed days may have been numbered, and that he would have to advance alone. But now, it seemed, here was another chance to better himself, another avenue down which he could walk towards the distant light of power. Already he had witnessed the tension between the tutor and the pupil, already he could sense the possible tensions that lay within Felicia's mind, her disgruntled thoughts and resentments at being born into a station which ill-fitted her intellect and outlook. Here, perhaps, was someone dangerous, a threat to his ambitions, one who may be able to see the truth behind his schemes; that would be if she were loyal. If she proved otherwise, perhaps a different outcome could be achieved. If Felicia truly was favored by Lady Groan herself, it would be worth staying on her good side, impressing her, attempting to appeal to her more delicate tastes. Satisfied that he had not been noticed, Steerpike continued to eavesdrop and tail the two women.  
  
"P-p-punish... m-me? But... but... you c-can't... she wouldn't..." Fuchsia bit at her lower lip as she stared into Felicia's smug face, the color draining from her own as she realized that her mother would give her schoolmistress such authority. Felicia began to nod slowly as she gave Fuchsia a feral grin.  
  
"Yes. However I see fit. And for the way you've acted today I truly should punish you. Perhaps I should put you in the stocks? Or the guardhouse? A caning perhaps... you have been quite dreadful after all."  
  
Fuchsia began to splutter and whine, tears welling in her eyes as she became overly distressed at Felicia's idle threats. Gertrude had had no such conversation with her and as much as she seemed to favor Felicia, she was more concerned about the welfare of her cats and her birds to worry about how her daughter spoke back to her tutor. Seeing that Fuchsia was about to take a turn into a different, though just as annoying direction, Felicia drew back and tutted calmly.  
  
"Now now, Lady Fuchsia. If you can promise to behave, I shall only hold class for half an hour and I suppose you shouldn't need a punishment after all. Now come along." She turned back around and began walking briskly down the corridor, smirking at the sounds of Fuchsia's sniffling as the girl followed along silently behind her. She should have thought of this sooner. It would have saved her quite a few headaches.  
  
Steerpike raised an eyebrow as Felicia spoke of canings and other punishments. She had appeared so elegant and refined in their brief meeting, but it would seem that the tutor had her own secrets, her own ways of dealing with those who displeased her. Maybe she, too wanted power; certainly, she wished to exercise some degree of control over Lady Fuchsia, a fact which Steerpike did not find displeasing. In fact, he wished the tutor as much luck as she could possibly muster, with the fires of chaos burning so eagerly in Lady Fuchsia's chest. Still, he could feel that smug swell of pride within his own breast just knowing that there were few who held sway over Lady Fuchsia, and he was one of them, the other being Nanny Slagg, the wizened old crone of a guardian whom he found most distasteful. So engrossed was he within his own thoughts that it took him a moment for his mind to register that Fuchsia was sniffling sadly, and without realizing what his body was doing, he felt a pang of concern stab at his heart. But it was swiftly converted into grudging pleasure as he realized that, after all, he enjoyed the sound. It was the embodiment of power and wealth reduced to sorrow, and that was a feeling he could revel in and understand.  
  
So heartbroken and forlorn was the sound of Fuchsia's sniffling that Felicia was hard pressed not to burst into laughter. She'd had no idea her threats would affect Fuchsia so strongly. But if she kept in this direction, it would prove just as useless as her usual exuberance. Turning again just outside the classroom door, Felicia held her arms open and cooed as she cocked her head to the side.  
  
"Oh Lady... I'm so sorry to have caused you such distress. I'm afraid I've not been myself today and have been in a most foul mood. It's only that I worry about you. Being of noble blood, having money and power and people to look after you, it seems you don't realize how useful it is for a young woman to have an education. Perhaps you will realize this someday... but I'm afraid it is not today... when you've a head full of dragons and beasts and handsome knights to slay them."  
  
Stupid little urchin should count herself fortunate that she had such ease and leisure to dwell in such a romantic world. But such is the life of the aristocrat. Still affecting a concerned gaze, she tutted placatingly as she observed the way Fuchsia clutched at her piece of cake.  
  
"Oh dear... you've smashed your cake. Though I'm sure it will taste just as well. Perhaps you can eat it while you're painting." Fuchsia instantly brightened at the idea and rushed through the door, jabbering about what colors she would paint her dragon. Trying to get Fuchsia's mind on grammar would have proven futile anyway. Just as she was about to close the door behind them, she spied a figure moving stealthily in the shadows before jumping behind a dusty suit of armor.  
  
As far as Steerpike was aware, his passage through the dingy, gloomy halls of Gormenghast had still gone unobserved, his footsteps little more than the passing of a breeze, his body clinging to the shadows faithfully and softly. He had listened and watched the most recent exchange between teacher and pupil, observed silently as Fuchsia was placated with promises of pictures and cake. Spoilt brat! Spoilt, yet... beautiful. Again, his mouth risked a smile, and he berated himself for his feelings. He had long perceived feelings to be a weakness, the blight of the human condition, barriers which prevented the achieving of greatness, the acquisition of goals. He would not fall to such a flaw. The door towards which he was headed remained open as he shuffled closer, hearing the sounds of Fuchsia's tuneless singing ringing out into the dusty corridor. He paused beside the doorframe, his ears trained in on the room, hoping to glean yet more insightful information as to Felicia's past and station.  
  
Little did Steerpike know, but Felicia had not entered the room. Fuchsia was too caught up in her singing, dancing and painting to notice her missing. Felicia watched from a dark alcove on the opposite side of the doorway, hidden in shadow, standing as still and quiet as she could. A faint smile played at the corner of her lips as she observed him, thinking himself so stealthy and clever, unobserved. She was tempted to stay back, to see what he might do, but if he were to pay closer attention, he might well notice her absence from Fuchsia's side.  
  
"And what exactly is it that you think you are doing... clerk?" She was pleased to see him jump ever so slightly before turning in her direction, his eyes flicking through the gloom as she slowly revealed herself. "Following us are you? Sneaking around? Clerk?"  
  
His thin lips drew into an even tighter line, the only visible sign of his anger at being discovered; for, if there was one thing which Steerpike despised, it was to be outwitted or bested in a contest of words.  
  
"Felicia," he said with a false smile, although they were both fully aware of the animosity between them; for Felicia, there was no bow, no great exchange of pleasantries. "My name is Steerpike, madam, if you would so kindly call me," he announced, drawing himself up to his full height.  
  
"There was no sneaking involved, I can assure you. Indeed, my purpose for my presence here can be no less nefarious than yours, good tutor; for what would possess one such as yourself to skulk in the shadows like a common thief? The key to your wealth, as we both know, stands beyond that door, lost, enrapt within a world of her own creation. What you think I would gain from strolling these corridors with cruel designs is quite beyond me."  
  
"Oh... oh oh oh... so innocent are we? As I was about to close the door I turned and saw quite a sneaky looking figure... moving quite sneakily through the darkest bits of the hallway... before making quite a sneaky looking leap behind a suit of armor. In order to divine who it might be making such a stealthy and... sneaky approach to my classroom, I rightfully secreted my person so that I might observe who it would be. And it seems we two are the only persons in the direct vicinity, yes? So... if it wasn't... you... doing the sneaking, then who was it?"  
  
She gave him a patronizing smile and cocked her head to the side, tapping thoughtfully at her chin. "What exactly is the purpose of your presence... clerk?"  
  
"I am running a morning errand for the Prunesquallors," he announced, the merest hint of an angry flush reddening his cheeks, emphasizing the cold stare of his eyes.  
  
"Surely, it is no secret that a doctor's assistant, a pharmacist-in-training, should be sent to the castle to procure various items required for poultices, potions and tinctures? Really, Felicia, you are so naive!"  
  
He dismissed her allegations with a wave of his thin, pale hand. "As for this so-called sneaking, the snooping of which you speak, then yes, it was I whom you saw moving behind you; but then again, after Lady Fuchsia's atrocious behavior this morning, can I be blamed for my prudence? The mere sight of me could have been enough for her to lapse once more into her daydreams, and then it would have been left to you to wake her."   
  
Felicia's voice was soft and almost purring as she gave a slight laugh and shook her head. "Oh, you are good aren't you? So calm and reserved, so docile and helpful." She paused and moved closer to him, her voice falling into a whisper. "I saw the way you were watching her."  
  
Straightening up and stepping back from him, she moved to pull the door partially closed, muffling the sounds of Fuchsia's warbling. "You have designs on her... haven't you? Maybe you hope if you win her favor, they'll think better of you? Let you rise above your station, forget where you came from? I'll put this plainly to you as I'm sure you appreciate directness. Once a kitchen boy, always a kitchen boy. You come from nothing. They'll never forget that and they'll throw it in your face until the day you die."  
  
His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, his eyes blazing as he glared at her, his look as sharp as any dagger or knife. He did not allow anybody this close; nobody was ever allowed to ponder or consider his secrets, nobody should have been able to see his thoughts and desires, and yet this impertinent school marm had managed it within the space of an hour. His fingers trembled as he clenched one hand into a fist, but he managed to keep his voice steady.  
  
"Not if they die first."  
  
Again, that enigmatic smile, that unfeeling glint in his hard stare. He had calculated his words before he spoke them, but his experience with Felicia had given him enough confidence to let her think what she wanted of that statement.  
  
"Whatever arises between me and Lady Fuchsia is none of your concern, and since you are the one talking of station, then it is certainly no business that a dusty bookworm like yourself should be concerned with. I will not distract her from her studies, if that is your worry."  
  
"Dusty bookworm?"  
  
She stifled a laugh and began to pace calmly around him, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her dress in a subtly suggestive manner. She knew more than to try to turn him in her favor through a ridiculous display of femininity, though that sort of thing generally worked on most males. Most... but not this one. Her eye stayed on him as she continued her tight circuit, a smirk curling her lips.  
  
"I'm hardly dusty... I dare say I'm not much older than you. You're 17, didn't he say? I've only 5 years on you. And I'm quite sure you would dearly love for something to... arise... between you and the dear Lady Fuchsia. Despite her being an obnoxious twit."  
  
She paused before him and looked him over once more. "I suppose you could try to seduce her. She already seems quite fond of you, despite the way she may have acted towards you at the Prunesquallor's. She draws pictures of you, you know." Biting her lip, she folded her arms and took a slightly more relaxed stance. "Perhaps I could help you."  
  
He tried not to appear pleased or surprised at the revelation about Fuchsia's artistic efforts, attempting to keep his feelings hidden behind a slight incline of his head and a raised eyebrow to indicate his possible interest.  
  
"Oh? Well, I suppose that isn't too surprising. She already has me written off as a bold explorer, the gallant knight to her embittered princess, and who am I to argue?" In reality, however, his heart gave a tug towards the door behind which Fuchsia was, even now, gazing at something that only her eyes could see behind the shutters of her eyes. This feeling angered and irritated him, and in the lack of any other presence he was forced to display his irritation in his reply to Felicia.  
  
"You can help me?" He sounded more eager than he had intended. "Please, excuse my wry smile, but what do you honestly think you could possibly do to help me? It's clear to me you have a problem dealing with the girl as it is."  
  
She smirked and tilted her head to match his. "Well, for one thing, I'm in her presence a great deal more than you are, aren't I? You've only witnessed a moment in my relationship with our dear Lady Fuchsia. When I'm not pressed with the ludicrous task of trying to hammer plain facts into that flighty brain of hers, she's rather easy for me to handle. And considering the place you already seem to hold in her mind... and heart... I'm quite sure it wouldn't take too much to place a few romantic suggestions in her ear, talk you up a bit to her."   
  
The idea alone made him want to retch. To think that he, a man of superior intellect and cunning, should require help with one so thick skulled as Lady Fuchsia! Besides, there were far more things at stake here than a mere girl; there was the Gormenghast estate to consider, the offing of half of the family members, the removal of rivals and possible obstructions. He had to consider Titus, the relatively new problem; Flay, with his disturbing habit of creeping as silently as one of Lady Gertrude's cats; Lord Groan himself, the root of the family troubles. He could not afford to let these alien twinges of heart affect his judgement in these matters. Nonetheless, he found himself agreeing to Felicia's terms before his mind had had a chance to fully consider the offer, his lips moving of their own accord, fuelled by an over-abundance of testosterone in his otherwise well-controlled body.  
  
"I admit, this could be beneficial," he realized he was saying. "Certainly, it could do no harm to find myself high in Lady Fuchsia's regard. But of course, Felicia, I know that all things must come at a price, and so I must ask of you exactly what it is that you require in return." Cursing himself inwardly for falling before the very weakness he had only moments ago been sneering at, he sighed and settled back on his heels, awaiting the cost of his folly.  
  
All trace of humor or emotional drained instantly from Felicia's face as she took a step back and lifted her chin, her eyes suddenly burning with a cold malicious fire.  
  
"Make them suffer. Every last one of them. Bring their great house crashing down around them. End the line of Groan however you see fit, usurp them if you wish. That is the only form of payment I shall need. To see them finished and wallowing in squalor."  
  
Her words had gradually become more harsh and acidic, her voice a hissing rasp of anger and loathing as she stood pale and trembling before him.  
  
The colour drained from Steerpike's face as she spoke, only to be quickly replaced with another flush, resulting this time from an exhiliration, a thrill of excitement. Did she truly mean what she had said? Did this tutor, this low-born woman of words, really wish for the great house to fall and shake within its very foundations? Certainly, she was shivering before him, but knowing himself how well he could keep his emotions in check, he did not put it past the young lady to be able to emulate his actions. He had to be wary, he must tread carefully, lest her words were a stealthily-laid trap.  
  
"Hush, Felicia! What you suggest is treason!" he uttered, a slim finger extending towards her lips, his head darting left and right as his voice lowered to a cautious whisper. He held her with an intense gaze, his head tilted slightly to one side, his face a picture of deathly seriousness as his eyes attempted to bore into her very soul. "I have heard of low-born ones such as ourselves being slain for even hinting at their displeasure of serving the ancient line of Groan. Would you incur the wrath of the household by risking your ideas to be heard by those who faithfully serve Lord Groan himself...?"  
  
An impassive answer, an answer which would reveal nothing, neither his own loyalty nor his burning ambitions. His shock, of course, was due mostly to discovering another who shared his desires, another like he who wished nothing more than to see the Groans meet an untimely end. She seemed genuine, to all intents and purposes, but Steerpike wished to ensure his safety before any more words were exchanged.  
  
Her eyes darted quickly to the door of the classroom and then along the passageway before she stepped back and pressed herself against the wall, nearly concealing herself in shadow. Steerpike could hear her breathing shallowly as she placed her hands against the cool stone behind her, her eyes closing for a moment as she seemed to be trying to compose herself.  
  
"My brother was such a one, a low-born servant who dared voice his displeasure with the service he was required to perform. A scrubber of the stones, spending day and night on his hands and knees until his fingers were raw and bleeding and he could barely move. He was overheard making an idle remark and when he was confronted he stood his ground. Only to pay the ultimate price. He was hanged... my only family. Hanged because he refused to wallow in faceless servitude."  
  
She was trembling again, her breathing coming harshly through her nostrils as she again attempted to regain her composure, staring to the ceiling to hold back the angry tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. But finally she controlled herself with a deep breath and stared hard at him.  
  
"So I say to you, Master Steerpike, that if you are indeed of a mind to do so, I will aid you however I am able in ridding us of those arrogant monstrosities."  
  
"And what makes you think my mind would be so inclined, dear tutor?" he smiled dangerously, having regained his composure as she had almost wept with anger. He was on edge, irritation boiling within him. Had she seen his true wants and needs through his calm facade? Were his cold ambitions truly so clear to see? He had better be more careful in future. "You have noted my... interest in the Lady Fuchsia. That, I cannot deny, and I hope we have a mutual understanding that this matter should not be discussed in the presence of any other." He gave a half-bow, also glancing towards the door, then allowed his smile to widen as he continued.  
  
"However, I find this talk of betrayal and murder most disturbing. Indeed, were I so inclined, I could take the news of your words to the very ears of Lord Groan himself, as I believe Prunesquallor has a shining relationship with Lady Gertrude, does he not? Yes, I could hasten back to the Doctor's residence immediately with reports of rebellion and deceit, if I so wished; although, if you were to speak sweet words of me to Lady Fuchsia, then maybe I shall not mention that which has just transpired."  
  
His dark eyes glittered, his face gave the merest hint of amusement.  
  
Felicia's eyes went a touch wide and her heart began to beat rapidly in momentary panic before she caught herself, her eyes narrowing, chin tilting upward.  
  
"Is that so? You would report my words to the Doctor and Her Ladyship? And what exactly makes you think they would believe you... a former kitchen boy? As the Doctor has his relationship with Lady Gertrude, you seem to forget that I do as well. Indeed, Her Ladyship has even expressed to me how irritating the good Doctor can become when she is forced to spend too much time in his presence. She rather values me, clerk, whether you wish to believe that or not. And I have never given her any reason to question my allegiance and loyalty to Gormenghast."  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head softly as she folded her arms and looked to him again.  
  
"And I fail to see why you would think it necessary to threaten me into performing a favor I have already offered freely. I could pour forth such loving and honeyed words in your favor as our dear Fuchsia has never even imagined."  
  
She paused again and took on a slightly malignant air as she drew away from the wall and moved slowly toward him.  
  
"Or... alternatively... I might just have a mind to turn your little play of blackmail against you. I wonder what Her Ladyship would say if I happened to mention to her that whilst in the presence of the Doctor and his new dispensary clerk, I happened to notice the clerk giving Fuchsia rather inappropriate glances. I might feel it my duty as her tutor and guardian to express my concern over the longing, indeed lascivious looks the Doctor's clerk was directing toward her daughter. I dare say she would be quite distressed."  
  
His jaw clenched, and the merest shiver of anger could be seen upon his face as he fixed her with a stern, hateful glare. He had been correct when he had decided that she needed to be watched; it seemed she wished to match him in cunning and guile, for she was certainly quick-thinking and able in her bid to trap him within his own words, much as he had attempted to trick her. But there was admiration too, a relief that perhaps, finally, here was one whose mind was on his level.  
  
"I do not think there is any need for such an exchange." He was standing up straight now, his back stiffened, his face an almost impenetrable mask of coldness. "Surely, it would be foolish to make such a fuss over the smallest of concerns. Perhaps I was too quick to judge you when you spoke of treason; I see, now, that you are far more... valuable... walking the halls of Gormenghast than you would be if you were banished or sentenced to death." He flashed her a curious glance, indicating that her assumptions of his treachery were possibly correct.  
  
He stepped a pace forward towards her, his hands clenched behind his back, and regarded her curiously as if searching for a telling emotion upon her hostile person. Well, he supposed, he would have to take the risk sooner or later; if she had been so candid as to let him hear her outburst, he would tell her, in return, a little of his true feeling. Checking the corridor left and right, his voice falling to a hushed whisper, he spoke out.  
  
"I doubt it would come as a surprise, Felicia, to hear that I have little love for the Groans myself. It was their doing that I was one of Swelter's rats, it is still their doing that there are ones like me trapped in vile servitude, suffering merely for the luxury of their heaving dining tables!" His words were venom-tipped, his hatred clear. "But do not think that I am a savior of men, nor that I wish to see all of the wrongs of this place put right, dear tutor; all I care about is pain. Their pain. They are mad, Felicia, quite mad! Even the Lady Fuchsia herself is afflicted by their wild, incestuous dealings! There is nothing that would please me more than to see... their fall... and... my rise."  
  
He stood back, pleased with himself, an eager grin on his lips.  
  
"There. I've said my peace. If you truly mean what you have said, then we understand each other. If not, then so be it, and we shall see which of us hangs first."  
  
A venomous smile graced Felicia's lips as her posture relaxed, her head nodding slightly as she seemed to see him through new light. This former kitchen slug... this Steerpike... was quite a dangerous young man. She could see that. Once an alliance was formed between them, she would have to make quite certain that she proceeded with great caution... and kept in his good graces. But if he dared to attempt to turn on her, he would pay dearly. She would make certain of that. Rousing from her thoughts, she waved her hand idly in the air in a dismissive gesture.  
  
"I care not for the others who choose to wallow in their servitude, too frightened or actually thankful for their lowly station to even speak so much as a single word against this place. Let the wrongs stay wrongs, as long as we two achieve whatever our hearts and minds desire."  
  
Her smile had fallen away and her face took on a rather serious look as she stepped closer to him, her hand held out for him to grasp.  
  
"A truce then, and perhaps an allegiance between us, Master Steerpike. For our benefit, indeed, for our glory... and the ruination of all who oppose our will."  
  
The faint smile that had been hovering over his lips broke into a broad, proud grin as she announced their alliance, his suspicions proving correct, his treachery safe. He had no reason to betray her; at least, not for now. Much as he favored working alone, it was always useful to have another to watch his back. he wondered idly, though, if she meant anything cryptic with the mention of her heart's desire. She knew of his lusts... perhaps she had some of her own. No matter.   
  
"I have long believed that nature holds its own laws, Miss Felicia, and that those who are strong should rise against those who are weak." He strode forth boldly and clasped her hand tightly in his own, his grasp far warmer than one would expect of his cold, distant demeanor. "It is agreed, then. We are to work together for our own ends... the downfall of the Groans. And we shall start in the most subtle of ways; the weaving of sweet words to turn hearts away from parents, and toward more lowly persons of the household."  
  
His eyes turned towards the door behind which Lady Fuchsia remained, his eyes shining dangerously as he let Felicia's hand loose from his vice-like grip. 


End file.
